


different mornings

by preromantics



Category: Panic At The Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-12
Updated: 2010-04-12
Packaged: 2017-10-08 21:45:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/79817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preromantics/pseuds/preromantics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan's life is all habit, except when it's not. Set after the break up of the band.</p>
            </blockquote>





	different mornings

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ 11/22/08. For L. (AU in that it was written before the canon split, so details of the fic!break up are not accurate.)

The mornings are different on the northern east coast, full of quiet light and haze. When Ryan turns over Keltie mumbles in her sleep, curling her fingers around the fabric of his shirt, an old gray one Ryan thinks maybe belonged to Brendon. It's always soft against his skin, and it moves, even on the sticky city nights.

Ryan carefully slips out of bed, pressing a kiss to Keltie's forehead more out of habit than anything else. he checks the curtains, tugging them closed all the way before the sun can really make its way through.

Life is all really habit, now, two years since the break up and almost three since the wedding and Ryan still has enough to get him through the next ten years, just like this. Every morning he takes his coffee and reads the paper just like any other boring adult, shuffling around the kitchen quietly and opening the windows gradually.

When Keltie finally wakes, walking out sleep tousled, Ryan puts some toast in for her, and sets a cup of coffee out on the table next to the entertainment section of the newspaper. More habit, something he does every day. 365 days of the year except for the brief respites he gets when Keltie goes away on a job, managing or sometimes still even performing. Ryan likes those times because he can be spontaneous, sleep in, maybe even smoke in the evenings, tucking himself into a cloud of relaxation. Sometimes he even writes, when it comes out. It's not that Keltie is holding him back, really, it's just their own personal pattern, hard to shake.

Sometimes, Ryan laughs when he thinks of what his life has become, he doubles over in silent laughter in his silent apartment with it's tasteful Swedish furnishings.

"I'm going out," Ryan says, buttoning a plain shirt, slipping on his bracelets that rest in the basket by the side door.

Keltie sighs, poking around in the fridge, and Ryan has known her long enough to not be bothered. "I won't be here for lunch,' she tells him, when he's half way out the door.

He smiles, turning just slightly and smiling, "Neither will I."

 

-

The doorman likes Ryan, and Ryan likes him. His name is Alanaz, and he speaks only broken English, and plays in a Spanish band down in the village, on Sundays at a little gallery where the night life is full and artsy. Ryan sometimes goes, and sometimes Keltie tags along, but usually their Saturdays (and everydays) are spent separate, each off doing their own thing.

As soon as he is outside, the morning becomes less hazy and quiet, instead full with the sounds and smells and bustle of New York City. Ryan thrives on it, usually, everyone's lives partially at view before him, millions of people and he hardly ever sees the same person twice. It's all so different than what he has now, what he lives like is not what he wants, separate from all his old friends, his band, his inspiration. But he's lost whenever he thinks of going back.

And, well, Keltie is nice, there is a quiet familiarity between them, a soft weight in the air and the space between them. It's like being married to a good friend, the communication and affection slowly narrowing down into silence that is comfortable if not lackluster. They have no big plans, no thoughts about planning a family, no list of things to do. Not anymore, at least.

They both know they would be better off not married, anymore, it had been a spur of the moment thing, with a good six month honeymoon period that Ryan reflects on as the rift that broke Panic apart, and made him disconnect from everyone as they tried so hard to hold on to him. (Although he didn't blame it on that at first, didn't want it to be his fault. A lot of spare time and introspection lead him to finally realize that, yes, he did it.)

Most every morning Ryan goes to the small bookstore across the street from his apartment, in which there is also a cafe. He has a mocha latte, tall, and sometimes whatever baked good is on special, and reads in the corner until the sun is right above the city and the streets are just as busy as when it's the morning commute.

Today is different, would be almost exciting if it was not for the heaviness that settles in unbidden in Ryan's chest. Brendon is coming, on tour with his solo debut album, which was already certified platinum two weeks ago. He's opening for Fall Out Boy at the garden (Ryan envies that, that they are still going strong, and Pete is still happy with Ashlee and Patrick is in a relationship and Joe just got married a few months ago, and their band hasn't been hurt minus a few scattered surface cracks) and then playing a weeks worth of shows over at the Knitting Factory, with a stop over at MTV during it all.

Ryan is going to meet him for lunch, starting at JFK and then probably to the Rainbow Room because Brendon emailed him and said he'd treat and it's always been his favorite restaurant in the city probably just because of the name, and because it has a view that stretches all across the city. The food is very bland for the price, in Ryan's opinion, but it's the principle of the thing.

He takes his time getting to the airport, taking a cab almost half the way before deciding on the subway out and then from the last platform to another cab. When he walks into the receiving area Brendon is sitting, surrounded by a small group of people and looking overwhelmed, tugging on the straps of his guitar case.

Brendon absolutely beams when he sees Ryan, making a beeline through the people with a small apology, and pulling him into a bone crushing hug, tangling his fingers in the hair along Ryan's neck. "Fuck," he says, "I missed you, man."

Ryan laughs, and his chest constricts. He'd only seen Brendon twice this year, and it's already summer, and the year before that he'd seen him only seven times. He always feels nervous about it, like Brendon blames him for the break up, (like everyone does, must,) like he is going to be bitter and well, he never ends up being that way. He's Brendon and Ryan feels more at home with him than anyone else. Expectations from through out the years just lead Ryan's thoughts astray when he's alone.

Still, though, Ryan can't bring himself to say he missed Brendon back. Maybe if there was a better word for it, a stronger word for it.

 

-

 

Brendon sort of holds on to Ryan in the subway, just like when they were young and trying to navigate the city between the hours of interviews and performances and act like they belonged. Ryan feels as if he does belong in the city, now, but understands Brendon's out of place feelings. The weight is comforting.

He's talking a lot, but Ryan mostly tunes it out, although he isn't sure why. Some bitter part of him is jealous that Brendon is doing so well - without him - and that he gets to be on the road and be himself and have what he wants.

Maybe that part of him is actually sort of big.

It's true, though, Brendon has everything he wanted in his life, right now. Almost a year after the band broke up, Brendon came out publicly as gay. He didn't make a big deal of it, first telling the people closest to him and then he let everyone else know and the tabloids and all the blogs had some fun with it, but it all died down within the same week. (Panic, after all, were old hat, and Brendon hadn't even been doing anything at the time.)

Anyway, yes, Ryan is jealous. But that doesn't mean he hasn't missed his other half. He tunes Brendon back in, and they chat about everything Brendon's been up to and everything Ryan hasn't been up to floats in between.

 

-

 

The Rainbow Room is busy, and Ryan is glad he made reservations. they check Brendon's guitar in at the coat room, and Brendon fusses about being able to handle it, to make sure it's put in a good place until Ryan tugs on his shirt and pulls him away.

"How's life outside of touring?" Ryan asks, swallowing around a forkful of uninspiring salad.

Brendon shrugs, "I haven't been off the road much, actually, you know, no time for life."

"No awesome guys to tell me about?" Ryan asks, after a beat, eyebrows raised. After he says it he realizes Brendon must think he's really stupid, but Ryan has always been okay with Brendon's choice, and yes, maybe he was a little mad at the first announcement, 'why didn't you ever tell me?' 'Why not before?' Why not when they were curled up together in a tiny bunk in the middle of a highway in the middle of where-ever and Brendon had played a tune along the side of Ryan's hip and they kissed soft and slow while the lamplight filtered in through the tiny bunk window. Why couldn't he have told Ryan then?

(Then they never talked about it, the kissing, and Ryan wanted to, wanted more, and then seven months later he and Keltie eloped and he was happy, right, he was and Brendon was too, with life and music and then it all fell apart like a ball of yarn that no one could figure out how to re-roll without the help of someones grandma.)

"Are you okay?" Brendon asks, although it sounds anxious and loud like he'd asked several times before, and Ryan realizes he's been staring, a bite of fancy greens paused halfway to his mouth.

He shakes his head, "Yeah, yeah, sorry, just thinking."

Brendon laughs, a little, "So I see."

 

-

 

Brendon compliments the Swedish furniture in RyanandKeltie's apartment, although Ryan had nothing to do with it when Keltie redecorated with modern stuff, and took the colors down and stopped wearing her bracelets and flowy, flowery dresses.

Ryan sort of misses the color.

"You hate it," Ryan tells him, popping a Corona from the fridge in a box full that he got in especially for Brendon's visit.

Brendon grins, and it feels like the one from the airport, not the half smiles in the Rainbow Room. "You're right, Ross," he says, "it's not you, I feel like I'm in a catalog."

Ryan smiles back, the honesty refreshing. "Tell that to Keltie and she'll throw some paint samples and maybe some heart health juice crap at you,' Ryan laughs.

They settle onto the couch and watch Will &amp; Grace, ("Can you believe that the guy who plays Will isn't really gay? Or Jack for that matter! It's so amazing, Ryan, Ryan? You awake?" And Ryan smiles into Brendon's shirt, soft like the one he sleeps in, and realizes Brendon is a creature of habit, too, just in a much more exciting way than Ryan.)

 

-

 

MSG backstage is always fucking busy, like its mirroring the streets of New York and everything is going to fall apart at once.

Pete flaps around the both, smoothing out Brendon's shirt and cuffing Ryan on his head, babbling on about the scene and god, Ryan thinks, he's still so young at heart and he's never going to change because he's Pete Wentz and he won't let the world loose it's shine while he's still around.

Ryan realizes, too, that he must be a disappointment to Pete, in the way his life has turned out. Once he was his prodigy-of-sorts, almost-enamored, and now. Now Ryan is like every other middle aged New York City suit, except he isn't middle aged and the only suits he owns are gathering dust in downtown storage or at the back of his closet or being eaten by moths back home where he still keeps his Vegas condo, just in case.

Everyone sits around, the big family, laughing and joking and catching up with Ryan even though he is a little reluctant to contribute.

Brendon plays amazingly, his voice never cracks and it's so full and mature and Ryan longs to write for him, again, to use his sound, to be by his side on stage and just feel.

Ryan really tried not to listen to Brendon's cd, it's on his iPod and he really only paid attention to it once, when Keltie was off on some retreat for stress and relaxation. After he listened through, he tried for hours to write an email to Brendon, to ask all these questions but none of it came out right, too needy, too impersonal. He ended up writing a big long thing about a boy who made a mistake but then fell in love with the person he should have been with in the first place.

He emailed it back to himself, and that was that.

 

-

 

Brendon has a hotel in town, and Ryan has to go back home (out of habit, and for Keltie), but he and Brendon share another drink at the hotel bar, not really talking, but it's comfortable and they make plans around Brendon's schedule and Ryan's non-existent one for the week.

 

-

 

Keltie asks him how the day was, and Ryan shrugs. Keltie sighs.

"I got asked out, today," Keltie tells him, offhandedly, "By the guy at the cafe around the corner."

Ryan pauses at the sink in the kitchen, "He knows we're married, though." (As most everyone does.) "What did you say?" Ryan asks.

"I told him I would to go the movies in the park series with him," Keltie says, biting into chocolate, her midnight guilty pleasure, "as long as he buys me dinner, first."

Ryan taps the side of the fridge, and, okay, its not like they haven't silently realized they are both looking for a new relationship, waiting for a point to actually have a reason to get a divorce. He maybe could have used some warning.

"Okay," Ryan says, "Okay, maybe we - it would be good to talk about this, then, in the morning."

They won't fight, Ryan knows, they'll probably just talk about an open divorce and take their time and maybe go to each others next wedding (if Ryan ever remarries, that is, his first hasn't been much of anything to model doing the same thing after) and remain friends who send each other postcards when they travel.

 

-

 

Ryan knows that Brendon doesn't understand what he's talking about when he ends up rambling about Keltie for hours.

"I thought you guys were so good, and then, Ryan, the band and stuff, we all thought-"

Ryan sighs, "We were good, but you know, it's more like. Stuff. Things happen."

Brendon laughs at him, and they are sitting in Central Park with their backs against a tree across from the little league, and well. It's nice. "You've always been so articulate, Ross," Brendon says, a small laugh behind his words.

 

-

 

At the airport, Brendon hugs Ryan goodbye so tight that it makes Ryan feel real and completely in the moment and he almost doesn't want to let go. "Let's not go so long without seeing each other, again, right?"

Ryan smiles and nods, and when Brendon is almost past the security line, he calls out, "I missed you!" and doesn't care who hears.

 

-

 

The following winter, Keltie gets engaged, and then she divorces Ryan and moves in with the guy from the cafe. It's all very cut and dry and Ryan finds he doesn't mind at all. He buys new sheets, Egyptian cotton, and a new rug for his living room. He writes for days straight, grand stories that might actually be shaping up to be something publishable.

Brendon calls, usually once a week, although mostly once a day now, from backstage somewhere (last week he was back home, in Vegas) or on some sort of moving object. This week, he's coming back to New York to stay with Ryan for an entire week and Ryan is excited.

They talk about lots of stuff, life and each other and Ryan definitely has his best friend back and well, he walks around smiling now. And it's nice. Different, and definitely better.

Lately, Ryan feels more alive than he has in a very long time. after Brendon left a few months ago, everything sort of blurred by, to the point where Ryan was even considering asking Keltie to move out so he could have more space.

Ryan has even been writing songs, and maybe thinks he'll show some to Brendon.

BrendonBrendonBrendon.

 

-

 

This time at the airport it's different, Ryan catches Brendon at the baggage claim, his dark head and obnoxiously bright shirt bobbing through the throng of people to get to his luggage. Brendon falls, flat on his ass, when he finally gets his bag, and Ryan laughs loudly but smiles wider than he has in a while when Brendon calls over to him from the floor.

Brendon pulls Ryan down on the floor, the dirty airport baggage claim floor, and hugs him tight right there, while they both laugh.

 

-

 

Brendon is in a relationship. Except he isn't. But he is. Maybe. Ryan is not exactly sure what Brendon is talking about at all.

"It's complicated," Brendon says, sloppy. Both him and Ryan are maybe just a little drunk.

Ryan feels sad. Also, he always hated corona (he just had it for Brendon) and it's especially gross tonight. Even though his life is sort of looking up, and the sounds of the city wake him up because he can sleep with his bedroom windows open now, Brendon's new revelation sort of sucks.

Ryan makes a noncommittal noise at Brendon, downing the rest of his tacky beer.

"I don't think," Brendon says, "I don't think the guy knows we are in a relationship."

Snorting, Ryan tips over, just a little to tug on the curtains by the couch and close out the city. "Who is it?" he asks.

Brendon tips over, too, straining his neck like Ryan, and Ryan watches him upsidedownsideways.

"He'll figure it out," Brendon says, after a few beats, "I guess."

 

-

 

The next day, Ryan wakes up early, padding through his bedroom and into the hallway to turn down the AC. Brendon is already up and Ryan takes a minute to laugh at him from behind, where he's sitting on the couch watching reruns of Transformers. He creeps up quietly and scares Brendon from behind, grabbing at his shoulders.

"Fuck," Brendon says, sleepily and wide-eyed, craning his neck backwards, "you suck."

They go out for breakfast some place in Chelsea, but it's more like brunch because Brendon took too long to shower and Ryan took the same amount of time to prove a point. (The hot water felt nice, though, any leftover clinging strands of sleep washing down the drain with the water.)

Sometimes, Ryan realizes, now that Keltie's gone he's almost exactly how he was before the break up. It's like he's three years younger, again, he got all his nice clothes out of storage and bought new clothes, (nice clothes, clothes to go out in) and a new pipe and the newest Sidekick. And. Well, it's nice. Really nice, and he wants, almost, to go back on tour. Except for how that's not possible.

The night before, after wallowing in bed about Brendon's mystery relationship, Ryan thought about touring again, maybe getting the band back together. Sure, Brendon has his record but even he's admitted it's nothing like it used to be, just him touring with staff, tech, and sometimes Shane and random old friends.

When they are served, (Brendon with a lavish fruit salad and Ryan with eggs, toast, and ham,) Ryan brings up music, almost shyly.

"I've been writing, sort of," he says, and Brendon swallows before smiling.

"Yeah?" he asks, "Are you going to go solo indie artist on me, Ross?"

Ryan rolls his eyes, his Conor Oberst days have been over for a while. He voices as such.

"I was thinking, maybe," Ryan says, forming his words slowly, "We could talk with Spencer and Jon? I know, you know, I know you are busy with the album and your own project. I just miss it all, everything."

Brendon grins, really wide, and wiggles his Sidekick from his pocket. "Spencer and Jon have been waiting for you, man," he says, tapping away.

Ryan sighs, shaking his head. Of course Spencer and Jon would have known, would have been hoping right along with Ryan in their own way. Of course they can do this, yes, and it will be great. "What about you?" he asks Brendon, almost an afterthought.

"What about me what?"

"Were you waiting for me, too?"

Brendon quirks an eyebrow, "I've always been waiting for you, Ross."

Ryan's coffee is really hot, it burns at his throat and makes his eyes water. Brendon pats him over the back until he stops coughing. His hand stays there, after, rubbing soft slow circles while they finish the food.

 

-

 

Walking through the park, later, Ryan suggests they go to the movies. Down in the village they always play film noir, and Ryan really likes that. Or, he used to, but he would probably like it again.

Brendon groans, and people on the sidewalk turn to stare. Ryan used to like that about New York, the fact you could walk down the street in something stupid like ladies underwear, and most people wouldn't even turn their heads. The park must be touristy, today.

"Or," Brendon says, "we could write music, and then play a game of guess who, and then possibly a game called Ryan Ross is oblivious and Brendon should go back on tour."

"Um," Ryan says.

Brendon shakes his head with a small grin, "Never mind. How about we go out to dinner, instead? My treat."

"We just had lunch, though, a few hours ago," Ryan says, feeling a bit like he's missing part of a conversation happening on some other plane.

Brendon grabs his hand, pulling him along, "That's okay."

 

-

 

The thing about going out to dinner in New York City, to some place fancy (Ryan would rather go to something like El Cheapos Mexican, but) is that its nearly impossible without reservations. Everyone is pushy and overdressed and the places push their customers in and out like on the Subway except for a lot more money.

Anyway, Brendon gets impatient after the fourth place they try and they end up eating in Chinatown, outside a small take-out place with the best Chinese food Ryan has ever tasted.

"This was supposed to be our first date," Brendon says, resigned, between some really awesome veggie lo mein.

Ryan's life made a lot of sense about two days ago. Now, not so much. Even the east coast mornings haven't had the same nice haze to them since Brendon came around. (Possibly because Ryan would rather wake up next Brendon, then his empty bed. You know, as long as he is at Ryan's apartment. The views from the windows in the living room and bedroom are vastly different, too.)

Ryan's life also made a lot of sense years ago, too, back on a futon, the backseat of a van, a hotel room with crappy heating or cramped into a tiny bunk, even. All of those times were times shared with Brendon. (Most of those times were good, all of those times were good with Brendon.)

Suddenly something makes sense, and Ryan's face goes from puzzled around his chopstick full of noodle to a quiet smile.

"I thought our first date was forever ago when we went to the movies and fought about who would pay," Ryan says, "and when after I crashed on your futon and we fell asleep in our clothes."

Brendon snorts into his noodles, then straightens his face out. A car goes by out on the street, with loud bass speakers that Ryan can feel in his bones and at the back of his spine.

"I was serious, though," Brendon says, "I thought you'd figured it out."

"Figured what out?" Ryan asks.

Brendon sighs, almost annoyed. "That you are the other half to the relationship that I don't have but actually do, Ryan."

Ryan is about to laugh, laugh at the absurdity of it all, up into the street lamps that just kicked on, but then he sees how serious Brendon looks over his eggroll.

Oh. And Ryan gets it fully, suddenly, all the phone calls and the way his heart seized up when Brendon didn't pick up at his usual time and how his divorce was so easy and all he looked forward to for months was Brendon and all he went to bed thinking about was Brendon, everything.

Everything before, too, before the record contract and then before Keltie and any girl. Every bus ride and every state, all of that and then the kiss, and oh, maybe Brendon felt it, too.

"Oh," he says, out loud, and then does laugh, but it's definitely not teasing. His mind is blissfully blank.

 

-

 

During the kiss the first time around, with the rumbling underneath them, Brendon had tasted night and morning all in one, stale and sweet. Young and exciting.

On the second time around, Brendon tastes like cheap but amazing Chinese food, spicy and hot. When Ryan balances himself on the concrete siding of the restaurant it feels gritty under his palms, sharp in contrast to the softness of Brendon's lips, the smile Ryan feels there.

After a while, when Ryan's lips feel almost sore and definitely numb, they both realize it's probably not a good idea to continue whatever it is they are doing out on a sidewalk of China Town at dusk.

Brendon holds Ryan's hand on the subway back to Ryan's apartment, and talks about everything and nothing all with a glint shining behind his eyes.

Before they get off Ryan catches his reflection in the glass window, messy with greasy palm streaks and dirt specks, and sees an exact reflection of himself, on the day he looked in the mirror at nineteen and knew he could make something of himself. That Brendon was going to make something of them all.

It's a good, spectacular feeling.

 

-

 

When Ryan was a kid, he hated waking up in the morning, unless it was the weekend. Not the so much the summer, since his house rarely had AC on and he'd wake up sticky and sweaty and knowing he'd be miserable. The weekends were nice, though, because they were special.

When Ryan was older, with his condo, he hated waking up in the morning because the morning wasn't the afternoon, and he'd been up all night. There was nothing special about the morning when the night had already taken away the shine.

Now, living back in Vegas, Ryan thrives on mornings. Waking up to the complete different-ness of the east coast. He knows it's going to be hot as soon as he walks out the door, and that the people in the Strip are not going to be friendly like the people in the park.

Mostly, he likes it because when he rolls over, Brendon will mumble something, and reach out to pull Ryan back before he can get up, resting the palm of his hand against the bare skin of Ryan's hip. That, that is the special part of waking up, now.

In two weeks time Panic at the Disco are releasing their fifth studio album. The internet is pretty much over Brendon's new boyfriend. (Ryan smiles at the thought, seeing their names in print, linked together by the word 'and' in an entirely new meaning than ever before.)

In one week, they go back on tour. Two buses with a big king mattress in one, and doubles in the other.

Every morning is different now, every morning is special. Brendon drags Ryan out for breakfast, or makes him (burnt or raw) strawberry pancakes. The only habits Ryan has now are ones that he can completely live with.

"You're smiling in your sleep, Ross," Brendon whispers, and Ryan curls into him, barely blinking open his eyes.

"I know," he whispers back, and leans up to memorize the feel of Brendon's lips, because they have all the time in the world.


End file.
